


What Happens in Vegas

by Astronaut_Milky



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Arguing, Drunken Shenanigans, Enemies to Lovers, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Feelings Realization, Forced Marriage, Las Vegas Wedding, Living Together, M/M, Marriage, Rivalry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-17 17:19:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14835900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astronaut_Milky/pseuds/Astronaut_Milky
Summary: By the time he is able to pull himself from the floor, Rafael is certain in his denial. Nothing happened. Nothing could have happened. He's not an idiot.He would never have married Sonny Carisi in Vegas.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my god I've wanted to do this for so long but it has been DIFFICULT MY FRIENDS, SO DIFFICULT
> 
> But please, enjoy my take on the film What Happens in Vegas.
> 
> Absolute thanks to ChameleonCircuit for the beta, because apparently I can only write dialogue now, no action, only words.
> 
> Kudos/comments are always appreciated!

The first thing Rafael complains about at length is the heat. It's stifling, and he can feel he's already sweating through his clothes, even though they're still in an air-conditioned space.

 

"Rita, this was a godawful idea," he snaps for the thousandth time since they have arrived in Las Vegas, as he follows his friend to the exit of their hotel.

 

"You're the one who bought tickets to Vegas for you and your douchebag," she snaps right back, though her smirk suggests it's meant to be playful. Still, the jab stings a little.

 

"He wasn't a douchebag when I bought them," Rafael mumbles, before groaning as they step out onto the street. "God, it's--"

 

"Rafael, I don't want to hear one more word complaining about the heat, not when you insisted on wearing a blazer,” Rita hisses out in one breath, with a quiet ferocity that Rafael has only seen a handful of times.

 

"It was the only thing I had to go with the outfit,” he says under his breath.

 

"Barba?"

 

A shiver runs down his spine, leaving him feeling sick in his stomach. He would recognize that godawful accent anywhere. Sure enough, when he turns around, none other than Dominick "Call me Sonny" Carisi Jr. is standing before him, looking just as confused as Rafael feels.

 

"Carisi, you look..." he trails off, eyeing Carisi's casual outfit. Skinny jeans, converse, and a t-shirt with some unknown logo on the front. An outfit that possibly would have suited Carisi, had he been ten years younger. "Why are you here?"

 

The detective points his thumb over his shoulder to the gaggle of men behind him, all looking just as immature as Carisi does. "Bachelor's party. Apparently Seth loves being a living cliche."

  
Rafael scoffs. "So you both have a lot in common then." The jab slips out before he can stop himself.

 

Carisi's eyes narrow, though the insult doesn't land as well as Rafael might have hoped. "I'm surprised you're here, Barba. I would have thought Vegas would be too... fun for you."

 

  
At this point, Rita has simply been watching the conversation with quiet amusement, but that has her barking out a laugh.

  
  
"I am plenty fun, thank you very much," Rafael almost hisses back, but it's when Rita and Carisi simultaneously scoff that Rafael feels he has to defend himself. "Hey, I've already mapped out exactly how we're going to hit the Strip, which places to go to and for how long--"

  
"God, you just don't know how to go with the flow, do you?" Carisi interjects, his eyes screaming for Rafael to challenge him.

  
_It's not worth it, he tells himself. It's not worth arguing with a co-worker you barely tolerate._

  
One of the men in the group calls out, drawing them from their staring contest. "Yo, Sonny. Hurry up, it's six o'clock and I'm not drunk yet!"

  
Carisi waves the man off, before turning back to Rafael and Rita. "If you want to have a fun time tonight, you're more than welcome to crash the party. We'll show you how to really do Vegas."

  
With a wink, and a horribly arrogant grin, Carisi runs off to his friends, leaving Rafael and Rita to themselves.

  
  
"God, he's insufferable. Anyway--"

  
  
"We're going,” Rita simply states, a wicked look in her eyes and a devilish smirk on her lips.

  
  
Rafael rolls his eyes. "No we're not. I've already come up with--"

  
  
"Rafael. We're going. Bachelor parties are always wild, some of those guys are cute, and the detective is right. You need to learn how to have fun,” she finishes, with one hand planted firmly on her hip.

  
  
"Rita," he starts, ready to counteract every single point she just made, but she's quick to start sauntering after the group of men, beckoning Rafael to follow. "Are you seriously going to leave me here?!"

  
  
"You're more than welcome to crash the party!" she calls out, mimicking Carisi poorly.

 

\--

 

The first place they end up is exactly what Rafael expects from a bachelor party partly organized by Carisi -- a rooftop bar with a pool and a perfect view of the sun setting over the horizon, the only reason he even agreed to this ridiculous plan. But of course, the party is not about soaking in those particular views. Not with the scantily clad women serving their drinks, or the shoestrings passing for bikinis that are barely being worn by those swimming.

  
  
Rafael had hoped for Rita to at least be around so he had someone to roll his eyes to, but she's made herself right at home, drinking with the men and ogling the women, being the life of the party.

  
  
"Jeez, counselor, I've never seen you look so unhappy with a drink in your hand."

  
  
Rafael's picturesque view of the sunset is instantly ruined by Carisi's head popping in front him, looking boyish in his arrogance.

  
  
"Hmm, if only you had seen me five seconds ago. Unfortunately smiling is quite impossible when you're in my presence."

 

Rafael hopes the snark turns Carisi off of spending another second around him, but instead he laughs and sips his ridiculously oversized cocktail.

  
  
"You're alright, Barba," he chuckles, tapping Rafael's arm with his elbow. "Drink up, we're moving on in a moment."

  
  
Rafael groans, and throws back the rest of his scotch. As much as he would like to stick to the plan he had spent hours creating, he also doesn't want to leave Rita alone. Not somewhere like Vegas, where bad decisions and regret are considered the norm.

  
  
As Carisi heads back to the group, Rafael can't help but watch with slight curiosity. The man is surrounded by his friends, at a bachelor's party in Vegas, and he's sipping a fruit cocktail out of a long pink glass, with a swirly straw. It's an interesting sight to say the least.

  
  
Then Carisi turns back around, and beckons for Rafael to come back over, backed up by catcalls from the guys, and a devilish smirk from Rita.

  
  
Rafael huffs and shuffles over to the group, dreading where the night may take them.

 

\--

 

There's not enough alcohol in the world to help Rafael deal with where the party have taken him.

 

A strip club. They've gone to a Vegas strip club, and it's not even the end of the night. No, it's nine p.m. and they're at a goddamn strip club.

 

Women in thongs and nothing else saunter up to Rafael and offer the world for a price, but he turns them down. It's not what he wants from the night.

 

So he leans against the bar and contemplates buying an entire bottle of scotch and finding a gutter to drink in. It would be more enjoyable than this.

 

In his self-pitying, moping state, he barely registers Carisi leaning against the bar next to him. When he does, however, it's only because Carisi orders a round of shots, something called a ‘Wet Pussy’.

 

“Those for you?” Rafael mutters as the bartender pours out the alcohol into shot glasses that flash bright colors.

 

“Us,” Carisi replies with a smirk.

 

Rafael is tempted to turn them down, but then again, who is he to turn down free alcohol?

 

The shots taste surprisingly sweet, although that is usually a sign that they're near-lethal.

 

“I'm surprised you're not with your friends,” Rafael comments after his second shot, gesturing to the guys around the stage, throwing twenties at the two women grinding on each other.

 

Carisi's eyes widen before he laughs loudly, wiping imaginary tears from his eyes. “Yeah, no. Not really my scene.”

 

“Hot, naked women aren't your scene?”

 

Carisi leans in slightly at that, raising his eyebrows suggestively. “It's not the hot or naked part that I have a problem with.”

 

It takes Rafael longer than he cares to admit, to realize what Carisi means, and when he does, his jaw drops. “You… are you gay?”

 

“As a guy's dick in my mouth,” Sonny says with a cheeky wink, flashing Rafael a smile that has his heart thumping.

 

Rafael can’t believe that all it took was for Sonny to confess that he’s gay for him to actually consider spending time with him.

 

“Shall we get another round of Wet Pussies?” he offers, turning back to the bar and flagging down the bartender.

 

“Didn’t think I’d ever hear you say that, Counselor,” Carisi chuckles, leaning in incredibly close, so close that Rafael can see the flecks of silver in his eyes. “Good to see you let your hair down for once.”

 

Rafael rolls his eyes, his mind a little foggy from the shots. Still, he downs his next two like they’re water before he turns his attention back to Carisi.

 

“I’ll have you know, _Carisi,_  I am very good at letting my hair down. I even have a party trick,” he slurs slightly, relishing in the way Carisi’s eyebrows raise almost comically.

 

“Oh yeah? I’d have to see that to believe it.”

 

Rafael runs his tongue along the inside of his mouth, trying to decide just how much he is willing to relax around the younger detective. The alcohol in his veins decides for him, giving him the confidence to undo his top button and remove his blazer.

 

He turns to the bartender and says a little too loudly, “I need a bottle of champagne and a large knife.”

 

Rafael will never be able to explain why the look of surprise and respect on Carisi’s face is such a turn-on for him. Instead, he focuses on the task at hand as he lines up the knife alongside the neck of the bottle.

 

He cocks his head to the side slightly, before looking to Carisi. “You ready?”

 

“As I’ll ever be.”

 

With one quick movement, Rafael slides the knife upwards, instantly flicking the cork off the top. The champagne spurts from the bottle, showering Carisi in the froth.

 

Rafael quickly grabs a glass to pour the liquid into, in between his gasps and loud laughs. “I’m- I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to do that.”

 

Luckily, Carisi is also laughing as he uses his shirt to pat the champagne off his face. Rafael is still chuckling as he pretends to focus intently on pouring the drinks, though his eyes lock onto the little tufts of hair on Carisi’s stomach, trailing down below the edge of his underwear that is poking out just above his jeans.

 

“Usually I get a little more warning before that happens,” Carisi jokes, and Rafael can’t help but laugh wildly, handing Carisi the glass of champagne.

 

“And how often does that happen?” The invasive question slips out before Rafael can stop it, and the laughter stops instantly, only to be replaced with an awkward tension. Just as he’s about to crawl into a hole and die, Rita stumbles in between them, wrapping her arms around their shoulders.

 

“Alright, boys. I’ve had my tit fix, it’s gambling time.”

 

The group stumbles onto the street with Rita leading the men, who seem to have readily accepted her as their leader for the night. Rafael falls back a little, as he’s done the whole night so far, but he’s surprised when Carisi joins him.

 

“So, Counselor, I--”

 

“Christ, Carisi, are you gonna call me that this whole night?” he groans as he slips his blazer back on.

 

“Oh I’m _sorry,_ what do I call you?” he slurs, and Rafael wonders just how drunk he must be, because he slings an arm over Rafael’s shoulders, guiding him forwards. The contact is impossibly warm, but Rafael finds himself leaning into the touch.

 

“Rafael is fine,” he mutters.

 

“Nah, I’m not gonna call you that.” Rafael scoffs at just how confident Carisi sounds in his statement. “Party Popper. I’m calling you Party Popper.”

 

Rafael stops in his tracks, but Carisi's vice grip has him propelled forward. “We are _not_ twelve years old, you are _not_ calling me that, my god--”

 

“So, Party Popper,” Carisi cuts in, ignoring Rafael’s protests, smirking like he's God's gift. “I’ve gotta ask how you and Calhoun ended up in Vegas of all places.”

 

Rafael tenses, enough that Carisi's grin vanishes instantly. “I… I had two tickets, so I figured I might as well use them.”

 

Carisi nods, his grip around Rafael’s shoulders tightening slightly. “Bad breakup, then?”

 

“Got it in one, _Filini,_ ” Rafael jokes, stepping out of Carisi’s friendly embrace. Carisi, who has frozen, locked in a shocked trance.

 

“Did you just--”

 

The group has reached their first casino, so Rafael turns to Carisi and lifts a pinky, wiggling it slightly. “It’s gotta be short and thin, right?”

 

His eyes drift to Carisi’s crotch for a moment, before he’s flashing a wicked grin and winking. As Rafael follows the group inside, all he hears is a shouted, “That’s not funny, Barba!”

 

\--

 

The most vicious, loud, ringing sound is what wakes Rafael up. It pounds against his head, pulses behind his eyes. He hasn't felt this hungover since his college years.

 

He groans and tries to move, to find the source of this hellish sound, but something stops him dead in his tracks.

 

A hot breath, tickling the back of his neck.

 

Rafael racks his brain, trying to remember the night before.

 

He remembers drinking a Long Island Iced tea. With two straws. The other one being used by Carisi.

 

He remembers shouting, something about his ex kicking him out of their apartment and being a homeless lawyer.

 

He remembers Carisi going to roll some dice, but stopping Carisi before he did. He remembers opening Carisi's hand, looking him dead in the eyes and blowing soft, cool air over the dice.

 

“For luck,” he remembers whispering with a wink, letting his fingers linger as he lets Carisi roll the dice.

 

His heart jumps to his throat.

 

_No._

 

Slowly he rolls over, only to be met with the cold hard truth.

 

Carisi is lying next to him. Naked. The sheet isn't covering him at all, leaving his bare ass on display. Rafael barely has a chance to enjoy the surprisingly perky sight, before a wave of nausea courses through him.

 

“Oh god,” he mutters, before he runs to the bathroom and empties his stomach into the toilet. His hands cling to the outside of bowl as he retches, regretting every moment that has led to this pain.

 

Then he spies it. A flash of silver. He glances to the side, to his hand.

 

“Oh _god,”_ he groans as another round of nausea bubbles in his stomach. As he dry heaves into the toilet, the silver band around his ring finger digs in to the bowl.

 

By the time he is able to pull himself from the floor, Rafael is certain in his denial. Nothing happened. Nothing could have happened. He's not an idiot.

 

He would never have married Sonny Carisi in _Vegas._

 

He stumbles back in to the room, only to be met with Carisi himself, awake, sitting rigidly upright, staring at his left hand.

 

A ring. On his finger. Rafael's heart thumps too loudly for his hungover mind.

 

Carisi finally looks up to Rafael, his eyes wide.

 

"We didn't-” he starts at the same time as Carisi says, “I don't-”  
  
Sonny swallows hard, glancing down at the ring again. “Did we?”

 

“I think we did,” Rafael replies, the bile rising slowly once again.

 

Seeing Carisi with the ring on his finger hits it home for Rafael. This happened.

 

Rafael and Sonny are officially married.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grumbling, Rafael pushes around the fruit on his plate with a fork, scowling straight at Rita.
> 
>  
> 
> Two men from the bachelor party sit either side of her, and although all three seem just as hungover, they are still sharing a sly smirks at each other.
> 
>  
> 
> Rafael went to Vegas and got married. Rita went to Vegas and had a threesome with two beautiful, young men.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear this fic will be done by the time Cinema Bang is over. I swear. 
> 
> Also this part is hella ridiculous, I did consult with keraunoscopia on the law type things for this, then proceeded to ignore 95% of what she said, in order to serve my own plot devices. 
> 
> Thanks tobeconspicuous for the beta, much appreciated bc HOLY HELL this one was a doozy.
> 
> Kudos/comments are always appreciated!

When Rafael had originally found out that their hotel had an 'all you can eat’ breakfast bar, he had been so excited. He had imagined spending a beautiful morning with his partner of three years, John, enjoying each other’s company, sneaking sweet kisses over mimosas and croissants.

 

Instead, Rafael is pissed.

 

The source of his anger is branding his finger, taunting him with its existence.

 

Married. Rafael went to Vegas, and he got _married._ It’s not that he’s never wanted to be married. Two months into dating John, he had practically started picking out the color scheme. Everything would have been perfect.

 

Grumbling, Rafael pushes around the fruit on his plate with a fork, scowling straight at Rita.

 

Two men from the bachelor party sit either side of her, and although all three seem just as hungover, they are still sharing a sly smirks at each other.

 

Rafael went to Vegas and got married. Rita went to Vegas and had a threesome with two beautiful, young men.

 

Jealous rage surges through his veins, only increased when Rita leans over to one of her conquests and whispers, “Go get me some waffles and gravy.”

 

The man leaves his chair, and Rafael sits upright in his.

 

“Really, Rita?” he grits out, holding up his left hand for her to see. “Really? You let me get _married_ last night, and all you can think about are waffles and gravy?”

 

She eyes the ring for a moment, before she bursts out in a loud cackle.

 

“Oh my _god_ , I forgot about that! Who’s the lucky person who finally chained you down?”

 

Rafael can feel the anger pulsing off him as he turns, slowly, to face Carisi, who seems to be a little too interested in cutting up his pancakes. Soon everyone at their table has their eyes turned to the detective. It’s not until Rafael clears his throat, his glare surely burning a hole in Carisi’s head, that Carisi lifts his own left hand, revealing the identical, tacky silver ring on his finger.

 

“You…” Rita trails off, her face contorted in a frustrating mix of shock and pure pleasure.

 

“Sonny, you got married?” Rita’s boytoy says, his lips twitching as he clearly is trying not to laugh out loud.

 

It doesn’t last for very long, and the cackling only increases when the other man returns and asks what they’re laughing about.

The chorus of gasps and wheezes continues for a good minute or so, and the whole time Rafael can feel his face growing redder, his jaw clenching tighter.

 

“Well,” he finally speaks as they start to calm down. “I’m so glad you all find my hell so amusing, but--”

 

“Wait!” Rita chimes in, scrambling to get her phone. “I remember taking photos!”

 

“Oh god,” Rafael and Carisi groan at the same time, Carisi sinking further into his chair while Rafael just buries his head in his hands.

 

“Check this one out!”

 

Rafael peeks through his fingers, only to see a photo of him and Carisi, standing at a hot pink altar, a veil on Rafael’s head and a short white dress over Carisi’s clothes. Their faces are red and sweaty, wild grins are planted on their lips, and in the background Rita can be seen watching on as Carisi’s two friends make out.

 

“There’s more!” Rita gleefully shouts, scrolling through her phone once again.

 

“Please make it stop,” Rafael groans, covering his face once again as he presses his forehead to the table.

 

It doesn't stop. Instead, Rita shrieks louder with each picture she finds. One of Carisi and Rafael onstage at a strip club, half-naked, grinding on a stripper pole. One of Rafael drinking from two champagne bottles at once, the liquid pouring down his chest. One of Carisi lifting Rafael up, his legs wrapped around Carisi's slim hips, their lips connected in a sloppy kiss, tongues dancing wildly.

 

Just when Rafael is certain it couldn't get any worse, Rita stops laughing. Her silence is damning. Rafael lifts his head from the table, where he's spent the past minute contemplating smashing his head into it.

 

Rita's eyes are impossibly wide as she stares at her phone.

 

“Ummm…” is all she can let out apparently.

 

“Show me,” Carisi says, snatching the phone out of her hands. “It can't possibly be worse than the pole -- oh my god.”

 

His already fair skin pales, and Rafael can only imagine what incriminating footage is on that phone.

 

“Let me see,” Rafael sighs, grabbing the phone from Carisi, who weakly lets it slip from his fingers.

 

Rafael finally looks to the phone. His jaw drops.

 

Rafael and Carisi are standing there, holding a comically large cheque.

 

_EGYPTIAN GOD'S WINNER_

_$3,000,000_

_Mr Barba-Carisi_

 

“I won,” Rafael breathes out, his heart thumping against his ribs.

 

“I won!” Carisi exclaims, throwing a fist in the air.

 

Rafael glares, chucking the phone onto the breakfast table.

 

“Ah, Carisi. I won, I'm the one holding the cheque,” he explains, ready to knock Carisi down a peg. “This is my money--”

 

“You blind, Barba? We're both holding it,” Carisi replies, turning to him with an incredulous expression on his face.

 

“Well my last name is--”

 

“Uh, guys,” Rita cuts in, holding her phone once again. “I think it's both of yours.”

 

Rafael stops, throwing his glare in her direction. “How so?”

 

“You've got your wallet, Rafael?”

 

She seems genuinely thrilled now, her eyes shining with wicked excitement.

 

“Yeah…”

 

“Get it out.”

 

He scrambles to get his wallet, just as Rita slides the phone across the table.

 

Rafael and Carisi gasp, then groan at the same time.

 

The photo has Carisi next to him, his tongue licking a stripe along his cheek. The thought of that occurring is positively grotesque, but in the photo Rafael is grinning, leaning into the touch.

 

But it's what in his hands that has his heart sinking. It's what's in his wallet that has Carisi groaning.

 

A napkin, with both their drunken scribbles and signatures on there, as well as a signature from Rita to top it all off.

 

 _I, Rafael Barba, declare that the earnings from our winnings - thanks to my coin,_ **and mY (Dominick Carisi Jr, Sonnyyyy) hanD that pulled the thingy --** _shall be ours, so long as we stay married_ **(4EVA)** _if we cannot stay married, the money must go to Rita Calhoun._ **( <\- BABE)**

 

“You've got to be kidding me,” Rafael huffs out, a headache creeping in from behind his eyes.

 

\--

 

“Your Honor,” Rafael cuts in, biting back the litany of curses he wants to throw at the old bastard before him. He wants to scream over the fact that it’s come to this, that Rita is putting him through such a ridiculous lawsuit. “Clearly this contract, which was written on a napkin of all things, cannot be-”

 

“The contract _you_ signed,” Rita mutters under her breath from the other side of the courtroom.

 

“We were drunk!” Rafael grits out, just as Carisi shouts it out from beside him. “Carisi, don't speak.”

 

“Well, I'm sorry _counselor_ ,” Carisi drawls, twisting his whole body to stare up at Rafael. “But this whole thing would run a lot smoother if you'd just let--”

 

“What?” Rafael hisses, keeping his eyes focused straight ahead. “Let you speak? Let you get up and take control over my case?”

 

“Are they always like this?” Rafael hears the judge mutter.

 

“Always,” Rita replies, the most shit-eating smirk on her lips.

 

“Oh please, don't you start. You were the one who let me get married to this neanderthal,” Rafael snaps, throwing a thumb in Carisi's direction.

 

“Neanderthal?” Carisi nearly shouts, jumping to his feet. “Really? Not only am I a decorated detective, I also graduated from law school--”

 

“Night school,” Rafael scoffs under his breath.

 

“ _And,_ ” Carisi continues with a glare. “I passed the bar, same as you, _counselor._ ”

 

Rafael scoffs, rolling his eyes so hard his head moves with it. “Oh, if you think we are even remotely on the same level--”

 

“Alright, I think it's time for order,” the judge sighs, picking dirt out from under his fingernails.

 

Rafael straightens his back, and sucks in a deep breath through his nose. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Carisi slouch back into his chair.

 

“Apologies, Your Honor,” Rafael murmurs. “Back to the contract--”

 

“You know,” the judge huffs out, sitting up a little straighter. “You young kids these days don't appreciate what it takes to keep a marriage together. You don't understand the meaning of the word marriage.”

 

There's something in his voice, like he's already come to a decision. It puts Rafael's nerves on edge, a sick feeling of foreboding settling into his bones.

 

“Your Honor, with all due respect--”

 

“Respect?” the judge nearly shouts incredulously, the first sign of emotion that he’s shown, other than pure boredom. “The second we were able to, my husband and I got married. Twenty years of love, and now we have the paperwork to show it. Sometimes he drives me wild, but at the end of the day we know that marriage is work. Marriage isn't two weeks of regret, followed by divorce and 1.5 million dollars each. Marriage is respect”

 

The judge taps his pen on his bench, his eyebrows furrowed.

 

“Your Honor?” Rita warily questions from the other table, leaning forward slightly.

 

“Two months,” he finally says, a shadow of a smirk on his lips. “If you can show the court that you can remain married, and show that you are working on your marriage, then the contract will be considered fulfilled and the money will remain in your hands, Mr and Mr Barba-Carisi.”

 

The courtroom seems to explode with unintelligible shouts, objections, and some kind of poorly pronounced Italian from Carisi.

 

“Order! Order!” The judge calls out, banging his gavel. The three lawyers quiet down, although Carisi is still muttering under his breath when the judge continues. “Now if I can continue without being interrupted… what are your current living arrangements?”

 

“I've got a one bedroom apartment,” Carisi sighs, running his hands through his hair.

 

“I…” Rafael starts, until he remembers his predicament. “I'm currently in between places, but I have some good leads and--”

 

“Perfect. You will move in with your husband throughout the duration of this time period. You both will also attend fortnightly marriage counseling, to prove you're trying to commit to this marriage.”

 

“Please, Your Honor--” Rafael nearly shouts, his voice shrill.

 

“Welcome to marriage, Mr and Mr Barba-Carisi.”

 

\--

 

Rafael stands out the front of the door. It's covered in a thin, white layer of paint, with scratches around the outside.

 

“You look like you're going to throw up, Rafael,” Rita chuckles beside him, leaning against the wall. Her excitement only fuels his anger.

 

“Rita, you don't even need the money,” he grits out, trying to stamp down the nerves bubbling in his stomach. “All you have to do is go to the judge and tell them you agree to terminate the contract.”

 

“And miss out on this shitshow? Not a chance, Rafael. Not a chance.”

 

Rafael sighs, groans, and bows his head.

 

It's time.

 

With three swift knocks, Rafael steels himself.

 

Time for two months living with Carisi.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You two might be smiling, but in your eyes you seem two seconds away from murdering each other,” she explains, her smile now arrogant. “This counselling will only work if you're both honest. So drop the bullshit and tell me something real about living together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks tobeconspicuous for the bae-ta (get it? Because you're my bae?)
> 
> Anyway, this is just....the ridiculousness keeps going further and further, so I can only apologise at this point.
> 
> But also....feelings? Perhaps? Maybe? Are happening?
> 
> Kudos/comments are always appreciated!

Rafael glares at the chestnut door before him, tapping his foot. He checks his watch. Of course he's late.

 

Loud footsteps signal Carisi's arrival.

 

“Sorry,” the familiar, grating voice calls out behind him. “Court ran late.”

 

“And yet _I_ managed to get here on time,” Rafael hisses, raising his fist to knock on the door.

 

“Oh, Rafael, even early you're still an asshole,” Carisi grits out, planting a ridiculously fake grin on his lips.

 

Rafael knocks on the door, three brisk raps of his knuckles. “You better be ready to convince them.”

 

“I'm ready,” he mutters, linking their fingers together. “Are you?”

 

Carisi's palm is warm, and although his body is coursing with annoyed rage, his hand relaxes into the contact.

 

The door opens.

 

Doctor Minette Keiser has the air of a maternal figure. She greets them warmly, and guides them easily to the burgundy couch. Rafael's cheeks are already hurting from fake smiling so hard.

 

“So,” she begins, pouring herself some water. “How's married life?”

 

Rafael sucks in a deep breath, bracing himself for the speech they had prepared.

 

“Brilliant,” he starts off, throwing Carisi a sickeningly soft smile. “I wasn't sure how being married to a co-worker would fare, especially to Ca- to… Sonny, but with him it's just so easy.”

 

Carisi leans closer to him, pulling his hand just a little too hard into his lap. “Rafael is a hardass in the courtroom, but at home he's a big ol' softie.”

 

Keiser’s eyes narrow, though her comforting smile still remains. “Really? How fascinating. Well it's been two weeks, how do you find living together?”

 

Carisi's hand grips his own a little tighter, a little too tight. "Great."

 

“Wonderful.”

 

Keiser nods slightly, and clasps her hands together in her lap.

 

“Talk me through your first night living together.”

 

“It was great,” Carisi starts, his voice a little too high-pitched, his smile a little too manic. “He's great.”

 

Her lips twitch a little. “And Rafael? Thoughts?”

 

“I… it was wonderful,” he slowly lets out, swallowing thickly though never letting the grin leave his lips. “Really just… wonderful.”

 

The room seems to freeze for a moment, smiles all forced to remain.

 

“Well,” she finally says, grabbing her clipboard and pen. “I just have one final question for you both… when are you going to stop bullshitting me?”

 

Carisi's hand grips Rafael's impossibly tight, when already Rafael wants to do is put at least three feet between himself and the brash detective.

 

“I-I’m sorry?” Rafael splutters. He knows they were a little shaky, but he thought he'd pulled it off really well.

 

“You two might be smiling, but in your eyes you seem two seconds away from murdering each other,” she explains, her smile now arrogant. “This counselling will only work if you're both honest. So drop the bullshit and tell me something real about living together.”

 

Rafael contemplates her words for approximately four seconds before he yanks his hand out of Carisi's lap.

 

“He snores,” Rafael starts, shuffling over to the other side of the couch, as far as he can from Carisi. “He snores, and I can hear it from his bedroom. That's right, he offered me his bed, knowing fully well that it is the most lumpy, hard atrocity to ever exist, then refused to give me the couch when I begged him. So lying on his ridiculously uncomfortable bed, I can still hear him snoring from the next room!”

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Rafael sees Carisi's jaw drop, but it's not enough to stop him.

 

“Barba, are you--”

 

“And don't even get me started on the fact that he's on a juice cleanse right now, and insists on waking up at five in the morning to blend said juices. Apparently his goal in life is to win the World's Biggest Douchebag Contest, but news flash Carisi,” he snaps, turning on the younger man. “You could win even if you were going up against Donald Trump and Elon Musk, purely by putting on the inordinate amount of pomade you've deemed necessary to lather on your hair every morning.”

 

Rafael lets out a shaky sigh, the relief instant. Venting about Carisi is a cathartic experience for him.

 

“Well,” Keiser starts. “That was--”

 

“Really, Barba?” Carisi cuts in, turning his whole body to face him, hands already flailing. “That's what you've got to say?”

 

“Just following the doctor's orders,” Rafael says with a shrug.

 

Carisi glares at him for a good ten seconds, before he whips his head around to face Keiser.

 

“Did you know that the only way he can get any work done is to blare Sinatra?” Carisi nearly shouts, gesturing wildly in Rafael's direction. Rafael just sinks back against the couch, relishing in just how flustered Carisi is getting.

 

“Frankie helps me think.”

 

“Oh, I wasn't done,” he snaps, throwing Rafael a surprisingly solid side eye. “He blares Sinatra at three a.m. when he's three scotches in and is somehow still going over his closing arguments. Not only that, but apparently the only way he can memorise his words if he sings them. As Sinatra. At three in the goddamn morning. And do you want to know what he says if I ask him to shut the hell up?”

 

“Enlighten me,” Keiser says with an amused smirk.

 

“Let's just say he tells me to sit on it and twist.”

 

Rafael chuckles, and is pleasantly surprised when Keiser snorts out a laugh.

 

“How… colorful, Rafael.”

 

“I thought so,” he smirks, exceptionally proud of that particular moment.

 

Carisi seems less enthusiastic about the situation. “I need to sleep, Barba!”

 

“And I need to sleep in, Carisi,” Rafael snaps right back.

 

“This is a great start,” Keiser comments, scribbling furiously on her clipboard. “Tell me about your bathroom habits.”

 

As if in unison, Rafael and Carisi's mouths open wide, ready to unleash two week's worth of pent up rage.

 

\--

 

Rafael stands alone in front of the chestnut door and knocks quickly, tapping his foot.

 

Keiser opens the door, her eyes widening slightly at the sight of Rafael by himself.

 

“Rafael… Sonny running late?”

 

“I have absolutely no idea,” he honestly replies, a smirk on his lips. He saunters into the office and plonks himself down on the couch, stretching out slightly.

 

“You seem to be happy not knowing,” she comments, sitting across from him.

 

Rafael shrugs slightly. “All I know is, I'm trying everything I can to make this marriage work. Perhaps I'm the only one.”

 

As if on cue, Carisi bursts through the door, face flushed, a sheen of sweat coating his skin.

 

“I am so sorry I'm late Doctor Keiser,” he babbles, removing his coat hastily and collapsing onto the couch. “Apparently I changed the date of this appointment on my Apple watch to be a different date.”

 

Rafael doesn't miss the withering glare shot in his direction.

 

“How unfortunate, Detective.”

 

Keiser taps her pen against the clipboard for a moment, before she leans forward. “Is there something I'm missing here?”

 

Carisi is quick to jump ahead of Rafael. “There is the possibility that if only one of us can prove we are working to make this marriage work, that person can get all of the money.”

 

Keiser’s pointed stare burns a hole in Rafael's head as focuses his gaze out the window, anywhere but the two people in the room.

 

“Is that so, Rafael?”

 

“Shockingly enough, Carisi was the one to come up with this little theory.”

 

“Is that so, Sonny?”

 

“Oh come on,” Sonny groans, running a hand through his hair. “I didn't--”

 

“For starters,” Rafael sits up, crossing his legs. “We tried your technique of using the bathroom separately, but he got upset with me taking too long to shave. Apparently I'm married to a man with the brain of a child, because when I got home that day, guess who had removed the bathroom door?”

 

Keiser’s eyes widen, then shift slowly over to Carisi, who seems to relish in the fact that things are being aired out.

 

“I had to pee,” he simply says with a shrug.

 

“He peed in the sink!” Rafael blurts out, pointing an accusatory finger in Carisi's direction.

 

“There weren't any dishes in it!”

 

Keiser refuses to let her eyes leave Rafael and Carisi as her pen moves rapidly across her clipboard.

 

“ _Anyway,_ ” Rafael continues, taking a deep breath in an attempt to calm down. “Carisi gets this genius idea that if he can prove I'm cheating, he'll somehow end up with all the money.”

 

“Oh, it's barely about the money, Barba,” he cuts in, rolling his eyes.

 

“ _So,_ ” Rafael presses on. “I get home from work on Friday, only to find Carisi has thrown a party.”

 

“I just had some friends over,” he explains, though his voice is a little shrill. It's a clear lie.

 

“Unless you've replaced all your drunken cronies from Vegas with forty year old stockbrokers, they were not your friends.”

 

Carisi scoffs, shifting to face Rafael fully. “Let's not forget that within half an hour of me throwing this party, the place was crawling with twenty-five year old swimsuit models who were a little too interested in trying to get me to do shots from their belly button!”

 

“Didn't stop you from doing said shots,” Rafael mutters, remembering the sight of Sonny's tongue running along tanned, washboard abs, licking up the salt, slurping up the vodka.

 

“And being married didn't stop you from trying to hit on every man with greying hair and a three thousand dollar suit!”

 

“Okay!” Keiser finally interrupts, holding a hand up. “Let's take a moment to breathe. In and out guys, do it with me.”

 

Carisi appears reluctant, but breathes in time with Keiser. Rafael crosses his arms and pointedly stares at her. He's not a child, and he won't be treated as such.

 

“Alright, now that you've got that out of your system, what else happened that night?”

 

Rafael sighs, remembering how the night ended up. He remembers how within an hour of the party, Carisi's living room had practically become a glorified orgy palace, with models and suits making out with each other all over the place. He remembers attempting to flee to the bathroom, only to be reminded that Carisi had removed the door. He remembers Carisi coming in, sulking.

 

He remembers Carisi sighing and saying, “You know, every married guy I know sleeps with models all the time.”

 

He remembers laughing, surprisingly, and replying, “Cheers to a celibate marriage.”

 

He remembers Carisi asking about his watch, a gift from John, something he couldn't quite let go of, and deciding it was time to leave John behind by removing it, and hiding it in the small medicine cabinet.

 

He remembers going to leave the room, only to be stopped by Carisi, who muttered, “Your ex was an idiot, by the way.”

 

He remembers, for a brief moment, being wholly attracted to Carisi. To his pink lips, sure to taste like beer. To his flushed skin, pink dusted across his cheeks. To his soft eyes, glazed yet deep, a kind of comfort in them.

 

That is, until the sound of shattered glass threw him back to his reality, the one where he despised Carisi.

 

Rafael blinks, and realises Keiser has been waiting for them to reply. He glances to Carisi, whose eyes are a little glossy, his face a little soft.

 

“Nothing much,” Rafael murmurs, turning to Keiser. “Party got a little rowdy, so we kicked them out.”

 

“Yeah,” Carisi mutters, nodding. “That's all.”

 

\--

 

Carisi opens the door for Rafael, gesturing for him to leave the building. With a tight smile, Rafael steps through and waits for Carisi.

 

“So,” Carisi sighs, bouncing on his toes, something curious in his eyes. “See you at home?”

 

Rafael clenches his jaw and grits his teeth, anything to prevent the traitorous smile tugging at his lips.

 

“See you at home,” he lets out.

 

As Carisi struts away, Rafael finally allows himself to relax, however it doesn't ease the odd feeling surrounding his heart. Something exciting, terrifying.

 

Instead of trying to name it, Rafael whips out his phone, and fires off a quick text to Rita.

  
**_R:_ ** _One month down. One to go._


End file.
